At this time, Ying Zhen stopped in his tracks. Snowflakes whirled around his figure and accumulated at his feet. Laryana stood next to him and observed him, but he didn’t even notice her gaze. At this moment, he had completely forgotten about her and only perceived the illusion in front of him.

A red drop dyed the snow at his feet. Blood. Like a blossom that unfurled its petals, it spread out on the snow, dying the white expanse in front of him crimson. Hardly had it reached the horizon, did the storm subside and the last snowflakes fell, causing the snow at Ying Zhen’s feet to slowly melt, the water seeping into the ground. When most of it had vanished, the ground was still greasy with blood. In fact, looking at it from above, it seemed as if they stood in nothing else but a sea of blood.

A sea of blood … Ying Zhen closed his eyes. An eerie silence surrounded him, making this thought even more chilling. But to be honest, he felt numb to it. Laryana had told him that this path to the gates of the underworld had to do with his own life. Naturally, it would reflect the things that had happened to him. And had his path in life not always been doused in blood?

He had been born in a time when the gods and demons had been about to fall out with each other. By the time he had come of age, their people had already readied themselves for the inevitable battles of the future.

Since then he had fought over and over again in the war once it commenced. He had gotten better with time and while he learned to fight, he had also gotten used to this kind of scene.

Ying Zhen lifted his eyelids and continued forward again. What did he care if blood soaked his shoes? What did he care if the hem of his robe was sullied with blood? His clothes, his body, his whole being had been soaked in blood for far too long. A little more didn’t make a difference.

The two of them walked for a while, Laryana usually a step or two behind Ying Zhen to make sure that nothing happened. Thanks to the fact that she was a person born in the underworld or rather a creature made by the underworld’s sovereign, she could see what was usually just meant for the souls wandering on this path: the things they couldn’t let go of.

She had watched the field of snow turn bloody but she couldn’t quite understand. Even though she was surrounded by death every day, she did not have much of a concept of what it actually meant. Even Heidan’s death was something abstract to her, something that just entailed that he would not return and she would be left alone on that headland save for those short moments when Nilam passed by on his boat. But she didn’t quite grasp what it meant otherwise.

Maybe that was a matter of course. Maybe because to her, the underworld was a realm just like the seven realms of the humans above or how the immortal realms of the other gods were a realm as well, the ghosts coming here were also just people to her. Even though they didn’t live their original life anymore and had to leave it behind while they made their way over to the gates of the underworld, they would soon begin a new life after they passed those gates. They were just … changing their way of being. Nothing more.

Laryana still hadn’t managed to grasp the meaning when things changed in front of them. At the horizon, some shadowy forms emerged. From where they currently were, neither of them could make out what exactly they were but it was clear that this had to be where their way should lead.

Ying Zhen accelerated his steps, not wanting to lose any time now that he had finally found a clue that he was on the right path. As he got closer, his face fell though.

A battleground lay before him. No, one couldn’t call it a battleground. It was the battleground he had left just a short while ago: The battleground where he had managed to wrest the last victory from the hands of the gods but still not managed to ward off his people’s demise.

Ying Zhen gritted his teeth and then marched on. He passed the lifeless bodies, strode through the smoke and over the weapons further into the hell that lay before him. His steps cut through the silence, the ground crunched beneath his feet, and bit by bit the sounds of fighting somewhere in front blended into the sounds.

Ying Zhen accelerated his steps. After hardly a couple hundred meters he could see them: The men of his folk, entrapped in a fight with the lower gods just like before. Swords clashed, spells shot through the air and the next man fell.

Ying Zhen gripped his sword. This isn’t real. He told himself so but his heart cried for him to unsheathe his weapon and join the fray. These were his comrades, the men he wanted to save. Seeing them, he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he had already found them.

He did not know too well how the underworld worked. What was real and what was merely an illusion used to make him give up on the obsessions he had held in life … he couldn’t say. At this moment, he only knew that he could not stand by.

Ying Zhen didn’t wait any longer. He pushed off the ground and landed in the middle of the fight. His blade whirled in a circle, interrupted the fights next to him, and repelled the gods. Ying Zhen followed one of them and his sword drilled into his chest. Blood moistened the blade and dripped to the ground. He kicked the god away to free his weapon and turned to the next one.

He brandished his sword but this time, his enemy was prepared and parried the blow. The god sneered triumphantly as if he had already won. He lifted his other hand and golden light flared up around his fingertips. It penetrated the smoke around them and the heat rushed to Ying Zhen’s face unabatedly. But the demon just smiled lazily.

Cold, blue fire sprung up in his hands and covered his sword. The blade tinged in blue broke the god’s weapon in half and burrowed into his shoulder. His white robe was dyed red.

The god pressed his lips together but didn’t give up. He drove his broken blade forward but Ying Zhen took a step back, just out of the god’s reach, before he motioned carelessly. The blue fire that had seized the god’s robe froze and turned into ice crystals. They burrowed into his skin, ripping it apart. The god screamed, dropped the broken sword, and gripped his shoulder. He tried to rip the crystals out but to no avail. Like a fire that only burned hotter the more it swallowed, the ice spread.

Ying Zhen turned around. The screams of the god accompanied him as he plunged into the next fight. Ying Zhen rampaged through the battleground like a storm. Deeper and deeper he went until he reached its heart, where the best warriors of his folk were fighting. Ying Zhen’s gazed roamed over the ones fighting, looking for the next god to attack. But then he noticed a familiar face between the demons.

"Wu Rong?" Ying Zhen’s eyes widened. That was one of his comrades who had fallen shortly before the battle with the gods ended. Just then, a spell shot toward him, right outside of his field of vision. He wouldn’t notice, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. In just a moment, he would be gone.

Ying Zhen froze.

Pain shot through his heart. He looked down and smiled self-deprecatingly. A blade protruded out of his chest. Ah, he thought, how foolish of me, to be distracted while in battle.

The god behind him yanked the sword back and Ying Zhen fell. Regret was written in his features. Now, he wouldn’t be able to save anyone. He’d have to let them fight alone and somehow deal with the onslaught of the gods. Whether they could survive … who knew for sure? In any case, it wasn’t likely.

Ying Zhen closed his eyes but then furrowed his brows as soon as he did. He had come here to save his comrades. How could he fail this easily? No, he couldn’t let that happen!

He dug his fingers into the ground and gritted his teeth. Having seen Wu Rong had to mean that this was his chance to save him. That over there might very well be his soul that was still stuck in the memory of that fight. He had to go and help. He couldn’t waste this chance. No matter what happened to him, he had to keep trying until I managed to get Wu Rong out of there.

Ying Zhen pushed himself up to his elbows and opened his eyes, staring up ahead to the gods and demons locked in a fight. Things were hazy because of the smoke and fog but the spells lit up the scene, again and again, allowing him to grasp onto details of the fights. There were more familiar faces but Wu Rong …

He furrowed his brows again and continued to look around faster but he couldn’t spot him. Another spell was thrown, a lightning strike from above hit the ground close by and Ying Zhen winced. He turned his face for just a moment and finally, he saw him: Wu Rong was lying on the ground, his face turned up toward the sky, his eyes still wide open.

Ying Zhen cursed. The spell had hit. Wu Rong had already lost his life. It seemed he had even figured out what would happen just a moment before it came true. The panic and pain in his last moments … he hadn’t been able to spare him that. He hadn’t been able to save him.

Ying Zhen pressed his lips together and extended his hand to his weapon. He had failed but he wouldn’t give up. He might not be able to save Wu Rong but he could save others, he was sure of that.

Just when his fingers were about to touch the handle of the blade, the fights around him stopped. The bodies of the gods, the bodies of the demons, the weapons scattered around, the fires that burned on the battleground … their colors faded until only a silver-gray mist was left. A gust of wind blew over the battleground and took it along. Nothing remained but the blood-soaked ground, Ying Zhen, and his weapon.

"What …?" Ying Zhen sat up. The pain in his chest vanished exactly like the battle in front of his eyes. He felt around for the wound but couldn’t find anything. His clothes, his skin … both remained intact. As if none of this had happened.

Laryana squatted next to him and swept her gaze over the once again bare plain. Ying Zhen turned toward her, not sure what had just happened.

"Nothing of that is real," she answered his unasked question. But that confused Ying Zhen even more. After all, hadn’t he just been involved in that fight? How could it not be real? It was inconceivable to him at this moment.